the new world
by dragonbind
Summary: They awaken, scattered, the last things they remember are wings of glass—no, light... / World of Light; vent; additional content warnings by chapter. Latest: [rest] - The waking world is somehow hazier than his dreams... But Marth remains silent. As does Roy, brow knitted and jaw clenched as he mulls over where to start.
1. haze

_A/n: Overall fic warnings: ooc-ish, implied mental health issues, violence, themes, imagery, fire emblem characters._

_Fic soundtrack (in retrospect): _Declaration _by Red._

* * *

_i_

* * *

The sunlight reaches into every crack of the world, showing Roy how truly alone he is.

Wings of light, once again an ultimate condemnation. Warriors decimated before they could finish a first breath in the face of the illuminator, the remaker, the destroyer. An afterlife spent in a void of choking eternity, interrupted by a brave, warm hand and starry eyes soon lost in the veins of chaos plaguing the land. And once again he is alone.

Spirits dance around him in the rifts of the deep forest, candlelights of hope trapped behind a veil that he could not breach—their hands passed through his, their moving mouths utter no sound. Sleep could not comfort them, nor could his pleas reach them, and the world could not cradle the souls it had lost and mourned. The world left hollow lets him pass, both of them in a tortuous, soulless haze.

A day he spends haunting the gutted world until angel wings and fire cross his path. A counterfeit of the Goddess Palutena meets his gaze across the clearing, flanked by a shadowy doppelganger of himself. Palutena leers, enslaved fire snaking around her fingertips. The sunlight falters.

She strikes.

A fire-stroked staff knocks the wind out of him as the image of his best friend breaks through the goddess's visage. Her hair morphs green to teal to indigo for a desperate second before he trips the goddess's feet from beneath her. He hesitates as he raises his sword against her and his doppelganger springs forward, driving its sword through his stomach.

He grabs the blade and wrenches it out even as his strength bleeds out of him, feeling the palms of his hands split in two. The infernal light world suppresses all wounds, but the pain is still blindingly real. The goddess's own light shoots for his head, he ducks and locks his sword with her staff. She is on her knees, losing the literal upper hand. As his doppelganger closes in he fills the sword with his soul and it explodes, knocking all three of them to the ground. The doppelganger vanishes perfectly. Roy stands as the imaginary burns along his arms scream for surrender but he ignites the blade once more and fells the false goddess before passing out.

* * *

Lilina visits him as he dreams. Her face is solemn but holding a strength he lacks. She says little, exhausted from keeping herself anchored and intact in the realm of spirits, lest she lose herself in the endless ocean of despairing souls.

"I'm sorry you have to do this alone." She hides her face but somehow he senses her tears, knowing that they've just come back from the brink. Yet he can't bring himself to cry in this subconscious realm. "I'll be with you, now. We'll be strong."

She fades from his mind.

* * *

He wakes to the smell of ash, lying in a fairy circle of scorched earth. The sky is a blur, flooding the clearing with a revealing amber. He wipes his face and finds that his eyes are wet.

Sitting up drains his strength. The sunlight pinches his skin and the sting nearly overwhelms his mind, but he grits through the pain to find small flames lacing his hands. For a moment his frayed tunic shifts into a beige skirt and ruby emblem. He rubs his burnt face gingerly but knows the presence is not a dream.

He rises with the spirit of Lilina under his wing.

* * *

She appears again in the lonely night, sitting beside him, flickering in the light of the fire. She says nothing but rubs comforting circles into the back of his hand as the wind wraps around him, through her ghostly form. He can't bear to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry," he chokes. His head falls into his hands and he weeps.

* * *

_I haven't been here in ages. Reviews appreciated ^^_


	2. memory

_ii_

* * *

His endless battles free civilian souls, the number of which he'd lost track an infinity ago. Lilina's flames rise with his as he fights, taming the destruction the sword wreaks on his body. She weaves around him, shimmering with power, her steps choreographed to his though he can barely understand where his body is moving. As he falls to his knees she raises her arms in a mage's stance and turns their enemy's attack on itself, freeing the soul within. The spirit cries in gratitude before fleeing.

"Lilina, I..." Roy whispers. He turns away in shame, resenting that she will follow him.

* * *

The sight of a friend resurrects his soul and fills him with dread.

The polluted air quivers with static, thick with betrayal. Pichu circles predatorily, demanding a presence much larger than his diminutive body. Roy's sword falters again and a flash of lightning shoots through his body. Blinded by agony, he falls to the ground.

He catches Pichu in an explosion of flame, searing both bodies. Lilina brushes his hand, clearing his vision, and lifts his arm to point his blade at his dear companion. Pichu approaches, leaps, wrapped in lethal sparks. Roy warps around, dislocating a shoulder, strikes Pichu savagely in the back, freeing them from their torment as his friend lays beaten in the dirt.

* * *

Roy wants to beg for Lilina's forgiveness while she is here beside him, but the dream realm oppresses his tongue and his grief.

Lilina's eyes fill with tears as she wraps him in a hug. "I'm sorry we had to fight him. Now he's free."

Roy swallows an awful, bitter sting of jealousy.

* * *

Lilina's hair floats about her as she looks down at him, worry her face. He blinks and she's gone, but finds his aching shoulder is back in place.

The agitated Pichu leaps into Roy's arms, securing his spot there until the end of the day. In the night, Pichu curls up against his body and sleeps, a little singularity of peace, safe under the wing of someone Roy cannot recognise.

Pichu nuzzles him throughout the next morning, to which Roy hides his numbness. He hugs his companion tight.

* * *

A phantom stalks them in the corner of his eye. Roy pivots, staring into the face of a blue-haired swordsman. A prince, his partner before the end, before they'd lost their minds.

He yells his name, the ghost disappearing as soon as he moves, leaving him grasping air.

* * *

He couldn't forgive himself for forgetting.

* * *

The trio hide in a crevice in the cliffs. Lilina strokes Pichu, though neither can feel anything. Nonetheless, Pichu purrs gratefully, nudging Roy in the hand. He runs his hands through the stiff, golden hairs before moving his hand to Lilina's. He phases through, the brown stone grazing his palm.

* * *

In his dream realm, he is roused by a kind face framed by blue.

Lilina's image dissipates, the hair lightens and shortens, leaving his partner standing in the vacated space. They stare across the void, breathless.

"I dream of you, you know," his dear friend finally says. He closes his eyes, exhales a shuddering breath, reaching for Roy's hand. Clasps it with both hands and raises it towards his heart. Roy feels it beating and radiating with unreal warmth. He wishes more than ever that he could speak even a single word.

"Come to me," says Marth, his voice catching. "I beg of you."


	3. ideation

_Chapter warnings: asphyxiation, self-harm_

* * *

_iii__  
_

* * *

He oversleeps a half-day, woken by malevolent spirits whom he frees with mangled hands. No direction save the snarling rockfall guides him as they descend the mountain path. Pale, yellowing grass leads them to a courtyard and a stone temple, blazing white in the sun, empty of the followers of whatever slain god once laid within.

The pillars cast ladders of shadow, incriminating light the rungs, footsteps belonging to him alone until Pichu springs from his arms, staring down an enemy Roy cannot see. In the shadows of the temple lurks a monster with Marth's face, the priest of the establishment robed in white, standing at the pulpit to condemn their pilgrimage there. The false Falchion flashes towards them but Pichu is quick on his electrified toes. Roy steps back as Pichu rushes their foe's legs and knocks it to the floor. Pichu tugs on its cape and becomes entangled in a roll of fabric that pins the monster to the ground, then unleashes a shock that makes them both screech. Roy approaches with his sword and impales the monster through its stolen face. The world begins to tilt and a wave of nausea overtakes him.

* * *

It's first time he sees the warriors as he stands amidst the crowd. He's pushed against the bustling bodies and his ears are filled with the endless unintelligible speech, a hundred voices speaking but unheard by their own ears, no attempts made to listen. It's a useless rendezvous.

Then sky drips down and the dream realm shrinks, constricting more and more until he can't breathe. They all begin to scream, stamping each other out of the way, bodies crumpling to the floor and disappearing into the rippling void until he's the only one left in the collapsing singularity.

He can't breathe, he can't breathe. His mind bubbles into a haze as his throat crinkles like paper. Hands materialise around his neck and he's staring into the face of his partner, twisted into an inhuman snarl, murderous blood beneath roiling for his death.

* * *

He awakens trembling and gasping for air, hands around his own neck, sitting in the moonlight that exposes him too much. He can barely see Lilina kneeling next to him, her image wavering in the silvery light. Pichu climbs quivering into his lap. Roy's mind is trapped in the material of his dreams.

"I saw him. I saw him." A bolt of despair burns through his chest as Lilina's shoulder offers no support for his outstretched hand. Her eyes shine with desperation and she can say nothing, as always.

"He couldn't stand me. He didn't let me breathe, wanted me dead. That's what would make him happy. And I talk to you like you still have a body. I should be happy as I am. But I _can't_. I can't save you, can't save him..." The Binding Blade glints in the moonlight. He runs his fingers along its edge, flinching as an invisible drop of blood, wavering between reality and unreality, falls to the cobblestones and dissipates. Like the sweet memory of how his doppelganger severed his hands.

He gets to his knees, evicting Pichu from his lap, and wraps his hands around the blade's hilt. It rattles violently as he channels his consciousness into the metal, causing a pop as the blade flickers to life. The flames are weak but the shadows are immense. Lilina's eyes flash from the other side, flooded with anguished tears. Her cries are drowned out by the light.

He gazes into the fire until it's all he sees. Feels the light and heat and tears burn his eyes. Arms made of lead hold the blade that commands his consciousness. Hands begin rotating it, envisioning the blade pointing downwards, towards flesh.

Too early it slips from his grip and slashes his arms as he jerks forward to catch it. He cradles the blade against his chest as it cauterises his palms and neck.

* * *

He didn't mean to fall in this time. So he finds himself pinned to the floor on his stomach, one arm stretched in front, where a prone Lilina is holding his hand in a vice's grip.

She looks at him once before dissolving into sobs that wrack her body and rob her of breath. She repeats his name again and again, squeezing his hand to make sure he hasn't disappeared like he wants to. In the dream world, he can't cry. It's almost like he's choking.

* * *

_A/n: Am I allowed to write this? I wrote__ this at midnight while I was meant to be working on an essay x)_


	4. veil

_iv_

* * *

He's awash in cold midday light when he regains consciousness, laying underneath his own cape that had been draped over him in his sleep. With a groan, he props himself up on stiff elbows and sees Lilina kneeling by his side. Pichu is worryingly absent.

He begins pushing his makeshift blanket aside before Lilina moves so fast she almost warps and hovers in front of him, holding her palms up. Her expression is firm even though her eyes are puffy and red.

"Is Pichu okay?" he asks, surprising himself at the effort he needed to speak. Lilina nods and pats the ground. _Rest_, she says. Roy almost falls back down, his arms collapsing beneath him. He lies cross-armed, fingers tapping away the seconds his animal friend spends exposed in the daylight.

"Has he been gone long?"

_Don't worry._

"Is he looking for help?"

_I'd say so._

The panic rising in his throat almost chokes him. "It's not safe for him to be alone out there."

Lilina hovers over him again as he begins to shift his weight. She closes her eyes and droops her head forward before staring at him again, unflinching.

Roy diffuses the tightness growing in his chest before noticing that his arms are stinging. Then he sees the singed vambraces, the exposed skin peeling and red. A similar pain flares up along his neck and jaw. His hand moves to trace the wound but he withdraws it with a hiss.

"Lil..." he croaks, through the pain that had finally emerged to snare him. "I'm sorry about last night..."

Lilina shakes her head slowly and reaches out to stroke his hair, nudging him back down for what she hopes is the final time. She smiles, blinks back her tears and fades away, leaving him to himself.

He bites back the thoughts running through his head, shutting his eyes so he can't see in his mind's eye the spirit of his best friend whom he'd failed over and over again. _I've become such a burden. What's the use if I can't help Pichu or Lilina or..._

His burns simmer in the cold midday air. The reality of his injuries is dizzying. He's taken back to the beginning of the war where a young lord does all he can to quell his panic as he clutches a bleeding arm, half cut off.

_How childish._

He spirals down until the pain fills him with a strange, analgesic sense of relief. His mind drifts.

* * *

He flickers in and out of sleep, for the first time in this world finding solace in the quiet shade of an empty mind, a plane away from his world of infernal light. A silence away from the wailing souls and the adulterated forest, the cliffs, the sky. Nothing he'd failed to protect. Not even his mind that in waking poured the oil that required merely to catch the light of the new world to bring to life the flames of agonising conclusion.

It's a watery void that fills his lungs with air as he floats, drowns in its darkness.

* * *

Pichu pulls back the curtain of shadow, brushing gently against Roy's unburnt side. He chatters and squeaks energetically, peering up at his companion with wide, brown eyes and erect ears, almost smiling.

"Hm?" Roy rubs his face and sees two lights hovering above his head. Rubs his eyes again and finds that they're still there. He reaches out to touch one of them and it flutters against his finger, warm and glittering. It weaves around his arm and settles on his chestplate. He stares at it with crossed eyes and soon fills with despair.

"You didn't need to go to the trouble of—"

"_Pi!_" Pichu squeaks with an almost vicious force that makes Roy blink. Lilina emerges from his peripheral vision threatening to put his head back down.

"I hope you didn't have to go far," Roy laments as the fairy brushes its wings against his burnt jaw. Pichu gives a satisfied squeak, to which Roy sighs. _I'll never know, then._

The other fairy steps in to heal his arms. The pain gives way first to numbness and then to a pleasant tingle, both warm and cool at once, that he doesn't deserve—_Get over yourself!_

He fills his lungs with the cold afternoon air and finds it too hard to focus on the healing, so he draws the curtain on his mind again, remembering the quiet peace of his dreamless dreamscape. Too soon a prickly golden tail brushes past his face, pulling him back to the world and his two companions. Lilina and Pichu gaze at him with eyes sparkling with cautious hope. He shies away from them and turns to the fairies hovering about his head.

"Thank you," he mouths, for a moment too weak to vocalise. The fairies nod about in the air before retreating back to their hollows, leaving the three of them looking at each other again. "Thank you, Pichu, Lilina," he says, out loud this time, peering at them through a tangled flame of hair. They smile. Lilina seats herself next to him and beckons him to sleep again.

Roy shakes his head. "We'll move under the cover of night."

* * *

_A/n: As soon as we start talking I break the style here oh well._


	5. luna

_v_

* * *

Pichu awakens him from a dream of fairies. The moon rises prematurely, giving them time to cover ground under the cover of darkness. Once his eyes adjust to the darkness, Roy realises that the moon may betray them to their enemies just as the sun does.

But they press on. Pichu falls asleep in his arms, leaving himself and Lilina floating at his side to venture forth. The forest is quiet and soon gives way to a wide lake of grass that shimmers in the moonlight. Shadowy figures swim among the tall grass, their light assimilated wholly by the Winged One and replaced with a perverted darkness, as Roy and his companions had.

He exhales his regret. Travelling by night would slash their chances of freeing the fighters and civilians alike, lest the three of them be ripped apart in body and soul once again. If his soul wouldn't be torn in two by this selfish act first.

They keep to the tree line, weaving through the undergrowth. The insects are hushed, and even the birds nestled in the tree tops are still, afraid of being banished from the leafy shadows of protection. Lilina suddenly leaves his side and holds out her arm, but Roy is too slow and trips over something small and hard and which doesn't feel like a tree root. Pichu's reflexes save him from a similar fate.

They freeze, and with a sigh find that their carelessness isn't carried on the wind.

They see an Arcfire tome at Roy's feet. Its centrepiece glows as Lilina approaches it with an outstretched hand. Roy rights himself and can only gape as she touches the leather cover and the vicinity is flooded with light.

When he opens his eyes, he sees two feet float to the ground. Boots twist into the dirt, disbelieving.

"Lilina...!"

She gazes at him, her expression filled with regretful happiness, given a selfish gift she could not share with anyone else. He reaches out shakily and feels the palm of her hand beneath his fingers.

They stare at each other like two reflections in a mirror. Before they can cry, he remembers the world and pulls her down behind the bushes. They watch the sea of grass. Light's hounds haven't caught their scent, but they still stalk the area. Roy hesitates for a moment before tumbling down the slope and crouching down in the grass.

"What are you...!" Lilina dashes after him and pins him to the ground.

"We can take them," he says, fighting out of Lilina's chokehold. Pichu holds him down by the back of his cape, to the same effect as him staying up the hill. "I know how Robin fights. We've even got their tome, so—"

"You expect _me_ to fight after I just—"

"What? No!"

"Then leave it alone. You're not in a state to fight, either. It'll be suicidal!"

"But that's—I can't—I don't want to—"

Lilina loosens her grip but he doesn't attempt to get away. He hides his escaped tears in his scarred hands, clears the fire from his mind, steals a glance at Pichu. Lilina dries her own eyes, gets to her feet and extends a hand towards him. She leads them back to the forest's edge where Roy sees Marth for a fleeting moment before collapsing.

When he wakes, he doesn't notice Robin, who blends in with the moon, until they, uncharacteristically touchy, press his cheeks together in elation. Neither of them are coherent, but Robin, nearly sobbing in relief, throws their arms around him, Lilina and Pichu.

"I'm sorry you were alone all this time," says Robin. "And I'm sorry about Kirby, Roy. Even so, without you, these two wouldn't have saved me."

That's when Roy recalls his place in the world and the now faraway relief it had brought him. That he would never realise his true strength on the front lines was something he thought he'd found peace with long ago. The four of them venture on, but as the night drains away, so too do the comforting arms of his assurance slip from his shoulders.

* * *

_A/n: FFnet forced me to choose between F/M!Robin :/_


	6. ripple

_A/n: I have a feeling I haven't properly established headcanon/characterisation but I'm too lazy and I've come too far to start now. Play The Binding Blade :v_

_Chapter warning: mental health issues._

* * *

_vi_

* * *

They have Robin now, their tomes and their despair for their missing friends and the lost world. The day's battles are easier on the body, but the burden eats away at their souls and their respite. Roy's fleeting happiness slips through his fingers, bubbling uselessly into the scared earth. Robin was with them now because Lilina had acted before Roy could throw himself into harm's way.

The night with the blade had revealed that mindscape. It swung at his hip as they trudged on, clattering louder than the petrified forest. To the blade, that night had been a tantalising disappointment. But it didn't matter who would get it done, and out in this new world there were plenty who could rise fulfill the role. The blade didn't have such high expectations. It wasn't a perfectionist. And it didn't have to pretend it was anything otherwise.

They settle down before dawn in a thicket, Lilina and Robin in particular needing the extra rest. Usually, this night would be too inclement for a break, leaving them to wander endlessly as their soulless bodies had—No, that's a lie.

Not one of them had ever been soulless. Perhaps it was a mercy that their spirits hadn't been brutally ripped from their bodies. But the agony of still being within it, but being pushed into a corner, having no control over it, watching it move, coerced by malicious hands to stalk, to fight, to terrorise those whose souls remained. Having none of the protection a body granted you, feeling like your connection would sever, that you would merely vanish into the ether if you were merely looked upon in the daylight, exposed for your pitiful conquering, was a pain incomparable. It ran deeper than ten blades twisted into the back, hurt more than the moment of their collective defeat. The experience crept up the throat, filled the ears, the nose, the mouth with a thick, oily vapour of shame that choked the heart.

And why should he have been freed from that if he couldn't save them all?

He knows he should sleep so the others aren't held back later, but it's hopeless. He looks one more time at the three of them asleep under Robin's coat before he unpins his cape, drapes it over his friends and leaves the thicket. Out of that cramped space, he realises the nervous energy pent up in his limbs that is impossible to shake off. He supposes it's the inherent uncertainty of fighting the lost souls, the possibility that the next soul they fight is the last that they free, and the next will destroy the link between the soul and body for good. He supposes that there is an order to the Light, that all were entrapped in the same way, but they aren't privy to that, how the Light thinks, why it had stolen the spirit of the world itself. (Really, he didn't see what it sought to gain by claiming him.)

Nonetheless, the reality of there being no escape from his psychological condition was strangely comforting. At least out of that terrible spirit prison he could entertain the vague possibility of success. He supposes he should start practicing. And if he was found by the enemy, well, how else was he to spend the restless night?

He finds a small clearing, as quiet as the rest of them, and pulls out his blade. They glare at each other for a moment before he exhales its whispers away. He starts out simple, moves onto the more strenuous motions, imagining an invisible foe as he'd been trained to do. Swipe, sidestep, jab. He takes one more swing and sees Marth's eyes glint behind the slash of the blade. It slips from his hand.

The space in front of him empties. He falls to his knees, the wind knocked out of him, and sits back for a moment, overwhelmed by despair. The face of his lost friend fills his mind, but it ripples, the image fragmenting as if he's beginning to forget what it looks like. The swirl of negative emotion in the pit of his stomach is unbearable, so after catching his breath he decides to attain a different vantage point, up a nearby tree. He hauls himself up to the first branch before his boot slips on the bark and the rest of him follows. He crashes onto his back and slips into a dream.

* * *

Marth is alone, save for the darkness, as usual. Roy approaches but his partner steps back.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispers. He suddenly collapses to the ground, tearing at his hair, convulsing in pain. Roy bolts across the space between them and shakes his shoulders. Look at me, he cries.

He looks on helplessly until Marth falls limp in his arms and gazes up at him, his face strained but relieved. He averts his eyes shortly after, grinning slightly.

"Do you remember when we sat together in the mess hall after curfew?" he murmurs. Roy leans in closer to listen, peering through Marth's bangs as he speaks. "We were on the couch under a huge blanket, watching the fireplace."

"You mean the time when Bowser crashed through the window?" Roy asks. Marth chuckles, an enchanting little sound.

"Even with that, being bundled up with you that night was one of the most peaceful moments I've ever had in this world." When Marth's eyes flicker up to meet his gaze, Roy retracts himself and grows warm in the face. Marth raises a hand slowly and caresses his cheek, which tingles beneath his touch. Despite himself, Roy cannot look away.

Marth's other arm twitches and a spire of pain flares through Roy's stomach.

The Falchion draws blood, which pools on the invisible ground between them. Marth's eyes are hollow with despair, now.

"End this," he begs.

"No!" But against his own will his hands close around Marth's throat. He goes light-headed from his own pain as Marth begins to writhe. He tightens his grip as they both scream.

* * *

He shields his face from the light when he wakes and finds it otherwise difficult to move. It takes a moment for his eyes to clear up before he realises that the tightness in his chest is in reality Pichu curled up on top of him.

Lilina and Robin call them back from the tree line and they continue on incognito, as always. They evade the eyes of the possessed hidden in the greenery. Forlorn wisps reach out for them as they pass and look on in mourning as they are left behind. Above the drone of the grieving souls, the crashing of waves begins to trickle through the thinning forest until it gives way to a view of shrubs, sand dunes and eventually a beach.

Quite unlike the night before, it's a beautiful, cloudless day. The golden sand stretches for miles in either direction, curving gently along the coastline. The water sparkles like crystal in the sunlight, cool and inviting. But like everyone else, the lifeguards have been supplanted.

They briefly discuss a method of attack, then set their sights on their chosen foe stalking the beach: a hulking, spiked shell—Bowser. The other is an imitation of the angel Pit, borne from the shadows of their gleaming antagonist, a body that would dissipate on defeat. The soul trapped within exists within a hellscape, but the three tacticians, and even Pichu, feel the ache of their brutal expediency. If the soul can hang on just a little longer, Bowser too can come to their aid.

With Robin's other tomes lost, fire is their disadvantage but their only long-range option. Robin murmurs an incantation, flicks their hand through the air and sends a fireball down. It skims along the sand dunes harmlessly until it reaches Bowser's shell and explodes, provoking a twisted roar as he crashes onto his stomach. Lilina follows up with a fireball that explodes in his face.

Lilina and Robin watch in silence as Bowser searches for his attackers. Robin distracts Bowser with another burst a short distance away. Roy and Pichu watch their backs, suspecting every rustle in the breeze.

Robin pulls out their Levin sword, nods to the others and springs out from the dunes with Lilina. Pichu goes after them after scanning the area, leaving Roy to pick up the rear.

He springs up and feels a sharp pain in the back of his knee. He wills his foot forward but he locks up in pain and falls to the ground.

It's not a pulled muscle.

Two more sharp blows pierce his shoulder and back between the gaps in his armour, leaving him prone on the ground and coughing up sand. He pivots around and, with a ragged yell, pulls out a violet arrow from his shoulder. A pair of shadows pool in his field of vision. The last thing he sees is the flash of a golden circlet in the sunlight.

* * *

_A/n: Beach episode!_


	7. flare

_vii_

* * *

_i_

Boots cross the slick floor of a foreign keep. Banners play against the gentle draft that dances through the space, amber in the warmth of the sun.

_Welcome. All are welcome here._

Here they will fight, but hatred, pain, they will not birth. There will be only light, like that which fills the foyer of the great Stadium and tickles the skin. Here there is no inhumanity under the crest of the worlds united, just rivals standing side by side.

Hands brush together. Draconic violet flashes against the crown of a prince.

The future collapses. The dragons are dead.

_i_

_"Maybe we can skip introductions! A joke, of course."_

* * *

_ii_

The sleepy sunsets stroke their fingers through their hair, caressing the worlds. The stars blink open their eyes, guardians of the sleeping world and fellows of the dwellers of the night.

The suns reach out a gentle hand, lowering their weapons of play before it and its children lower their heads. The healing has begun. Silence only for those who need it and crave its peace, though adventure never sleeps.

The suns are roused, shining fire on the bitter earth, by the clashing of metal on the horizon that terrorise the grieving moons. The very earths bellow in fury, agony, subjugation, desperation for no escape.

The new wars are beginning.

_ii_

_"We'll see each other again?"_

* * *

_ii_

(Something goes wrong. The world flickers.)

* * *

_iii_

Flames

Lick at the ankle

Chars fingertips

Burns knuckles through gloves

A flash halts the sword

A jaw halts the fist

Crash to the floor. Starry sky floods the eyes

Hate. Hate. Hate

Grab by the hair with hands shaking with hate.

Smash the face in

Bleeding noses, bruised foreheads, spittle aflight, hair moist and nose filled with the reek of sweat mingle with the waters of the holy fountain.

Vision clears

Eyes burn by a white world, shaded only by the abandoned, singed banners of old camaraderie.

_iii_

_"We miss you, _I_ miss you. Write back soon."_

* * *

_iv_

They let their friends burn in the apocalypse surrounding them. Cries mingle with the roar of beasts. There's nothing but a silent ring of ash and the two bodies embraced within it.

_iv_

_"I'm not ready. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you."_

* * *

_v_

The world fades away. The silence whines in the ears. There's always peace in the darkness, these days.

Hands wrap around the green pommel of the sword. _Go. _

Blade nestles under the chin.

A gentle hand parses the gap.

He says no.

_He_ says no. _Let me have this._

I won't let you.

_Let me have this!_

I reject this.

_Leave me or die!_

Aims beneath the breastplate. Cuts their hands as they push the blade away. Again. Again. Swipe at the side. Down at the skull. Slice the scabbard off their hip. Slash as they scramble for the weapon. Kick it away. Ignite and rend the ground.

But he pushes through in singes, smashes his elbow into his jaw and claims the blade as his own.

_The battle is won._

Then no more.

_Yes, no more._

Wind rustles their hair and Falchion is in Roy's hands. Instinct takes over: Marth deflects the blow and impales Roy, again. His arms shake and turn to jelly as they both crumple to the floor.

"Thank you." Roy looks down at the ravaged flesh and then at Marth, eyes crinkled in happiness. He coughs violently and slumps forward, Marth catches him. He wails into Roy's neck, chest heaving in suffocating agony, knuckles white and clutching fistfuls of flame hair, arms wrapped around a lifeless life raft.

* * *

_A/n: Didn't know what to do with this one for ages so I wrote the same thing lol_


	8. kaleidoscope

_viii_

* * *

He bursts through the oily darkness, arms thrashing, into the blinding light. As his eyes adjust the visions of his partner's suffering fade from his memory, but the pain remains. He must expel it. But he cannot dive down again, no matter the weight of his heart.

"Let me in!"

* * *

The light is too much. The savaged world is too real, its emptiness too stark. The cries of the lost souls and inner grief are deafening, dizzying, devouring his reason (though in truth it had gone too many days ago).

Put the light out, and his scars will stop singing, and he can live again.

* * *

Marth jerks up violently from Bowser's lap, nearly inhaling sand.

"His Highness has returned to us," the King rumbles, his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile.

Marth looks speechlessly at Lilina, Pichu and Robin, who have also been joined by the angel Dark Pit, and he almost asks where his light counterpart is before remembering the impostor borne from the Supreme Light—may luck be granted to the spirit who was released from that prison.

"This happened to Roy, too," Lilina smiles, eyes downcast. "But we all made it."

That's when his stomach drops and he almost yells through a desert dry throat, "_Where is he?_"

She points him to the body on the sand laying just outside his field of vision. He blacks out for a second, thinking Roy is dead, before observing the weak but steady rise and fall of his chest. Pichu spares him a hollow glance before nuzzling further into Roy's side.

Lilina shakes her head in apology. "Thank you for looking after him during the tourney."

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"We all are."

It's true, but it doesn't stop him from looking on at his partner and wondering if this sleep has also subdued his turmoil. If his sleep is sufficient shade from the reality of their failures that covers the entire sky.

You for me, he says to the sun. Take me, free him.

* * *

We'd be back where we started. He turns over and pulls the darkness over him again.

* * *

"I saw him," Marth whispers, barely louder than the gentle rain so as to not disturb the sleep of the rest, and slow as he tries to reorient himself in the recent and ongoing chaos. "It's not enough that the Light destroyed us all. The visions escape me, now, but he was almost destroying himself in his dreams."

Lilina nods at his side as they lay huddled among the roots of a great tree for the night, not far from the beach, as their weary bodies and spirits warranted. "I know. He showed me. We couldn't speak for so long. There's not much I could have said." Her voice catches and she sniffles before continuing, "It's so hard to know how to help."

"He always had a good poker face," Marth remarks, voice wavering despite himself. He grimaces and is grateful that the night hides their tears before a stray yellow spirit peeks out from behind his shoulder, closer than a spirit has ever been. Its light flickers in Lilina's eyes and she smiles, extending a hesitant hand towards it.

"You're so strong," she whispers as its light caresses her finger. "Just hold on a little longer, okay?"

The light winks as if in reply. Another spirit, emerald in colour, emerges from behind a thick root and joins their circle, settling upon one of the unconscious Roy's scarred hands and spreading its light onto Pichu, seemingly glued to his side. Marth has to swallow a sob, gazing on at the little fragment of life, still here despite everything, still here even if it was in a different way to those who were still able fight their doom.

The yellow spirit alights upon Marth's shoulder. He can almost feel it sitting there, keeping them company. _We'll be alright_, it says.

"We have to be strong, too, don't we?" he says, because how else can they go on? "What a tragedy."

He notices Lilina staring through him, expressionless and unblinking. "Lilina?"

She convulses at the call of her name. "Did you hear them?" she whispers. "The spirits?"

For a moment, all he can hear is the drone of the night, holding its breath. Eventually, he feels the wind pick up, but the leaves of the great tree remain still. Marth's head begins to whirl until the sound of Lilina's voice rights him.

"I can't hear what they're saying but, maybe we're not so alone after all. We can keep home within our sights."

"It's almost cliche."

"How else could it be?"

He smiles and gazes at their little lanterns of hope. Their flickering dances are hypnotising and he feels his eyelids grow heavy.

_At least there's this,_ he thinks, before even the night fades away.

* * *

Marth is back on the edge of the void, looking down into oblivion at his feet. He can do nothing else, the new world abandoned.

A hand, nonetheless larger than he expects, clasps his forearm. His heart nearly stops when he turns to see a redhead half a foot shorter than him at his side.

_I'm sorry,_ his eyes say, shy but determined. _We're here, now. _There's a darkness behind them, but it's one that is dwarfed by the impossible space surrounding them. He soon sees a certain little mouse Pokémon hidden in his cape.

Marth blinks and the yellow spirit materialises on the younger Roy's shoulder. The green spirit alights on his own. For a moment he sees Lilina and a rainbow ring of spirits, their image refracting behind the diminutive emerald flames, though they might just be his mind compensating for the senses they've left behind.

The world shudders and knocks them to the floor, leaving them dangling on the edge of nothing. They're exposed—trespassers, the world deems. _Leave_.

The younger Roy presses himself into Marth's side, but neither of them get to their feet. Marth wraps an arm around his companion's shoulders, holding tight until the world ceases roaring. The silence is bliss until a gloved hand bursts through from the void.

The younger Roy launches himself out of Marth's protective embrace and reaches out for the hand. His grip is clumsy and Pichu clamped to his leg weighs nothing, but Marth doesn't move until the hand nearly pulls them both under. He grabs the hand by the wrist and he and Roy pull together, shouting with effort, but the hand sinks as if it's being forced back down. Marth's head spins and lights flicker in his eyes and effort and blood flood his ears as he strains, before they set their feet and tug one more time. They're destabilised as a body flies up from the void. Lilina's braced hand catches them as the world falls down.

* * *

_A/n: "Ah! How on earth will I finish this vent!fic?!" "Power of friendship?" "Yes!"_

_(One more chapter to wrap up though, naturally.)_


	9. rest

_A/n: Minor edits 13/6/20 and 3/8/20._

* * *

_ix_

* * *

A soft material brushing his face and a slight stretch in the arm rouses Marth from sleep. It's still dark, but when he props his head up he finds that he's curled up against Roy's side, and that his arm stretches across his torso, hand clasped in another smaller, braced one.

"Li—" he stops himself when he sees her in the same position as himself on Roy's other side—his mirror image, still fast asleep. He's the only one awake—even Dark Pit is quiet up in the branches of the great tree, and the rest of the forest has finally lulled itself to sleep. The waking world is somehow hazier than his dreams. Even the spirits have disappeared, with only the rain and his visions echoing in his mind. He wonders if he's dead.

A distant rumble of thunder changes his mind. With the tree their best offering of shelter, all he can do is curl up and let them all rest.

The next thing he's aware of is the grey morning light shining in his face. He withdraws his hand from Lilina's, which finally rouses her, but all she does is mumble and inch closer to Roy. A loud squeak scares them out of their skin as Pichu springs out from underneath the folds of Roy's cape, covered in static.

"I'm sorry," says Lilina. "Did you sleep well?"

Pichu's ears perk up as he stretches, and he gives Lilina a forgiving nudge before cantering over towards the beach. With a start Marth notices that the immediate area is empty save for Lilina, Roy and himself, but he soon spots Bowser's horns dawdling past a few bushes and sand dunes.

They suffer another scare when a voice between them suddenly cries out. They call Roy's name in unison as they hover above his face. His eyes are open but he can only focus on them weakly, and he makes no further attempt to speak.

"Can you get up?" Lilina clasps his shoulder as he precariously heaves himself off his back, elbows shaking. She and Marth support him so he doesn't keel over.

"How are you feeling?" Marth stammers. Roy's eyes flicker towards him for a moment before falling back to the ground. Marth looks to Lilina helplessly. She bites her lip.

"If you wanted to get up and stretch, I'll watch him," she finally says, mustering a small smile. "It might wake you up."

His throat dries up and he can only lean closer to the both of them to show that he doesn't want to leave. She mirrors him and they rest their heads against Roy's shoulders until the others return. Dark Pit lurking in Bowser's shadow appears to have no intention of saying anything, but even the usual sharp glint of his eyes is dulled by the grey.

"Pichu briefed us on his condition," Robin says, giving them a sympathetic nod. "We can keep resting if you need to."

Lilina shakes her head.

"How do you expect to travel when you three look like that?" Bowser grunts.

"We're okay," Marth says suddenly. He and Lilina pull Roy to his feet but he quickly collapses to his knees. Bowser growls and nudges past them, heaving Roy into his hefty arms.

"It's no problem," he assures them. "Anyway, I've an inkling of where the nearest town might be."

The sun breaks through the clouds again over their next half day of travel. Marth begins to recognise the rolling hills surrounding the town he'd visited once before, but the town itself is nowhere near in sight when they are set upon by a united false Samus and Ridley that emerge from the forest they'd just left.

Bowser rolls his eyes and roars fire at their opponents. As Ridley bursts through the wall of flame, Marth swipes at his underside, nearly slicing the false beast clean in half. An explosion in his face blasts Samus away from him and fills his head with a spasm of agony. His vision clears just in time for him to see Lilina and Robin beating Samus back with a deadly maelstrom of fire and lightning.

Dark Pit in his peripheral vision pulls his bow back with a scream and sends a volley of violet arrows at Samus. Marth then notices that Dark Pit's mouth is clenched shut, and that the sound actually came from behind him.

"Roy!" Marth spins around and nearly trips as he forgets all else and rushes towards the vegetation they'd hidden Roy behind. He finds him arched over and pulling at his hair.

"What's wrong?" he cries, grabbing Roy's shoulder with one hand and cupping his face with the other.

Roy looks up at him for a while before pushing him away with sudden strength and rising to his feet. He kicks Marth in the head and unsheathes his sword, towering over Marth. Time stops as they glare at each other, eyes wide in terror and Marth seized by pain. The entire world spins except for his partner, still as a beacon, glaring furious death. Then the Binding Blade falls from Roy's hand and he sinks to his knees, head in his hands, silent. Marth's whole body trembles as he approaches again, slowly as if he's approaching a wild animal. But it's not Roy's fault, it's not his fault when he pulls himself away from his company, when the chasm is all he can stand.

Marth's hand hovers half an inch from Roy's forearm for a long moment before he breaches the gap and embraces him, holding tight, not caring if the sword pierces his flesh again. Marth strokes Roy's disheveled hair along the back of his neck as they both shake and cry.

*.*.*.*.*

Their victory goes without saying but it nearly empties their souls. They settle down again sooner than they'd want, even Bowser's fire put out as the rain resumes, harder than the night before. Roy falls silent again and seems barely cognizant of the rain even as Lilina and Marth chatter at his sides and Pichu whimpers in his lap. Their spirits are leaden, but sleep is kept from them until they ache all over.

Marth has visions of the three of them walking side by side in the void, out of the cold and wet and sorrow. Sometimes one of them blinks out of existence. It doesn't bother him until he wakes up in the middle of the night to Roy's face streaked with rain, and what he eventually figure out are tears. Marth wipes the tear away with his thumb, tracing the burn scar along Roy's jaw. He pulls one of Roy's icy hands up to caress against his chest, as in their nightmare. He can do nothing else.

The rain fades away again, and he hears Roy's voice whisper his name. He jerks upright to find Roy sitting beside him in the darkness, looking at him. _Looking_ at him, his eyes so, so bright, more courageous than he could ever feel in this world, so alive that he could cry. But Marth remains silent. As does Roy, brow knitted and jaw clenched as he mulls over where to start.

"Don't place such heavy a burden on yourself," Marth says. "It saddens me to watch you tear yourself apart."

Roy hangs his head, hiding the despair filling his eyes. "I...I don't think I can. I can't—I'm s—" He inhales sharply and makes excruciating eye contact with Marth again. "If...if I fade away again, promise me you'll hold on."

"Promise me you'll come back up," Marth fires back, eyes aflame.

Roy exhales and shuts his eyes, withdrawing back into himself. "I wonder if making promises that we can't keep is the best way to weather this."

In a less dire situation, Marth might have laughed at that.

"Don't say that!" Yet he can't think of what to say in return. They sit in hopeless silence, staring awkwardly at the ground between them until Roy finally speaks, unsure of himself.

"Just don't be afraid to ask Lili for help," he mumbles, fixating himself on wringing the hypocrisy out of his hands. "And help her too, if you can."

"And you." Marth reaches over and entwines his fingers in Roy's, pulling him closer so that their foreheads touch. Tears prick at his eyes as a hand ghosts over Roy's burns. Roy stiffens but lets Marth draw his arm back out. The prince runs his fingers over the raised skin, chest tight as he wonders about the depth of the scars. But it's something that they can lay to rest, no burden to hide, even if they remain as obvious as day. Finally at ease, Roy reaches his other arm around and begins playing with a lock of Marth's hair. They're silent for a long while, but it's the sweetest silence that they've endured.

"Will the spirits be okay?" Roy eventually mumbles, burying his face in the crook of Marth's neck.

All Marth knows is that he will never give up on the world. "As long as I keep surviving. And I will, whether you like it or not."

"I'd love that."

The dream is over all too soon when Lilina and Pichu wake them up, tired and damp but in brighter spirits when they see that Roy isn't staring through them. Lilina throws herself at him with a sob and they stay entangled in their embrace while Marth's eyes adjust to the blue of the sky. He get to his feet and offers the two a hand.

Roy is still languid and wobbles on his feet, but he manages weary eye contact with his companions. He nods, they draw the attention of the rest of their party, and they march onwards, almost ready to face the foes that lurk in the sunlight.

It's a beautiful day, warm and bright and nearly too revealing. Pichu hitches a ride on Roy's shoulder, who remains a shadow to the world, the spirits and his partner as they walk, until Marth places a gentle arm around them. Roy leans in and sighs.

"Forgive me," he says. "All I can do right now is feel sorry for myself. And to think that you saw my dreams..."

Marth's heart lurches when the visions suddenly return to him in striking clarity, images of fire, ash and terror and forbidden emotion flashing before his eyes and clogging his airways. He shakes his head. Those visions were not given to him by any right means. Misplaced, like everything, maybe except for his heart.

"They were horror for you," he says. "Whatever comes next...we will push through it. I won't allow you to back out."

"Renewing our vows, are we?" says Roy.

Marth suppresses a giddy bout of laughter. Roy melts into his side, laughing as if he's already recovered.

Just for a moment, they forget their landscape of tragedy. Shadows soften, the Wings of Light fold, and Roy's hand squeezes back a little stronger than before. The spirits are a little calmer, whispering among themselves as Lilina renews her harmony with them. They can all breathe in the air that has begun to dance again.

Perhaps the world can heal after all.

* * *

_A/n: This is the first original plot that I've finished! I'm still working on tying up two of my other stories, so it's kind of a milestone for me :) Thank you so much for reading!_

_We need more interactions between Roy's boyfriend and sister. Get to it!_


End file.
